


Morning Sickness

by PickleandtheQueen



Series: The Family Circle [5]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Morning Sickness, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleandtheQueen/pseuds/PickleandtheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piccolo finds himself feeling incredibly under the weather</p><p>Based on a roleplay between myself and Forgotheparable. I regret not saving it because it was awesome....but it was fun to rewrite! </p><p>Set after "Making Babies" and before "The Birth of Suri." Neither need to be read for this to be understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surprise! Sort Of

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: emetophobia may be triggered. 
> 
> There are three scenes where Piccolo vomits. 
> 
> It's all due to, you guessed it, being pregnant. Thus the title. It's fairly obvious when it's going to come up if you want to read and then just gloss over it. It's really just "and then he vomited" like no descriptions of it beyond "that was awful."

Piccolo was miserable. He shifted his weight from one hip to the other on the couch, legs up, down, crossed. He even tried laying on his back with them hooked over the back of the couch.

"Honey, what on earth are you doing?"

He tilted his head back, looking up at Chichi from his odd position.

"Can't get comfortable," the namekian grumbled, sliding down and off the couch onto the floor, headfirst.

Chichi crouched beside him, brow furrowed. Her lips puckered slightly to the left. That was her Worry face. It was different from her Irritated face, where one brow was lifted, and her lips unevenly raised, and also from her Confused face, in which her lips seemed to disappear inside her mouth, but her brows did the same as they did when she was Worried.  Her hand touched his forehead, and he blinked. _He had been thinking an awful lot about her facial expressions, hadn’t he?_

“Hmm, you feel a little warm… Come on, up you get.” Nudging the coffee table out of the way with her hip, Chichi hooked her arms under him and hoisted him up as she stood. Of course, that meant she only lifted him enough to get his butt off the floor. Piccolo’s legs were straight out in front of him, heels on the ground. He made an annoyed sound, but made no move to free himself from her grip. “Baby, you’re kinda heavy. On your feet.”

“You’re the one who insisted on lifting me,” the namekian groused, twisting his head to look at her, lips pulled to the right in a sour scowl. That was his Why face.

Chichi rolled her eyes and adjusted her grip on him.

"Just get up; I'll make you a cup of tea and give you a massage, okay?"

He grumbled a bit more but pushed back against her, pulling his feet under him and using his hips to throw his center of gravity forward.

On his feet, Piccolo swayed for a moment, and his brow puckered. _What_ the _hell?_ The namekian's stomach felt... Odd. Off. _Oh dear._

Piccolo lurched, bringing a hand to his mouth and barely making it to the nearest vase before his knees buckled. His stomach heaved, and he did something he had never done before and dreadfully hoped he would never again do; he vomited. And it was the worst, most horrible thing he thought he had ever experienced. Including being blasted to death.

“Piccolo!”

Chichi was at his side again, one hand on his back and the other on his shaking shoulder.

 _What the hell had just happened?_ He groaned and clutched at the unfortunate decoration as his stomach once again upended itself. “Okay, let’s - to the sink, at least,” Chichi fussed and gently eased him back down into a sitting position. “You know what, stay right there. Give me… yeah, give me that. I’ll bring you a bucket - oh you made one, okay.”

He hovered over the newly-created bucket, face pale and eyes wide. “Are you okay, Baby?” Chichi was already on her way back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. “What was that all about?”

She dropped down at his side and began to dab at his cheeks with the cloth. For his part, Piccolo felt numb and achy all at once. And there was this wretched twisting feeling in his stomach!

"Dunno," he groaned once he was sure he would not repeat the experience. "That was awful."

Chichi tutted, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"Well, you have a bit of a fever, like I said before, um, well, before." Piccolo grunted. "But I don't like that you're throwing up. I don't think I've seen you do that!"

"That's because I haven't," his tone was clipped, and he knew she would not appreciate it, but what could she honestly expect from him after _that_ horrendous ordeal? The closest he had ever come to vomiting was the unpleasant period of time after his heats where his body threw a mini temper tantrum in response to his failing to conceive - _oh god._

"Are you gonna puke again, Baby? Right in the bucket, that's -"

"I'm pregnant."

"You're what now?" Chichi's voice dipped from concerned to flat in an instant. Piccolo's chest constricted, breath coming in shallow pants. Oh _my god, I'm pregnant._ They had been...thinking about a child... Planning on one, even. Hell, they had trying during his last two heats, the better part of an Earth year... "Honey, it lasted the same amount of time it always did -"

"And I haven't had my shedding week," he countered, fingers tightening on the bucket.

"It just ended a week ago," Chichi offered weakly, a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"A week and a half. I'm late. It's always build-up, heat, shed within a week of each other." His heart was pounding in his chest now, chest rising and falling with each shallow, ineffectual breath.

Chichi shoved the bucket up to his face and held it as he threw up once more, finishing with several horrible, unpleasant dry heaves. "I'm pregnant."

She said nothing, rubbing his back and once again dabbing at his face with a different fold of the cloth.

"Maybe," Chichi murmured, "but that's exciting, isn't it? We've been trying for a long time." He managed a nod, and Chichi kissed his temple. "Let's try and not get too worked up about it until we see Dende, okay?"

 _Of course,_ Dende would be able to tell for sure! Piccolo nodded again. That was a good idea. After all, after all he could not feel a difference in his ki! Shouldn't he be able to? He had sensed Chichi was pregnant with Goten before she had thought to take a test! He would surely know if he, himself, were with child… “You feeling up to heading over there now? Can’t be anything left in you to...expel…”

Piccolo groaned and shrugged. Truth be told, he did not really feel like moving much at all. He was afraid of throwing up again.

Yet, his wife did not seem about to take a no for an answer and whisked away before he could complain or dash her plans. Chichi bustled about, wrapping a bright pink shawl around her toned, bare shoulders and checking her hair in the mirror. “Come on, Love. No sense in putting it off. Either you’re sick or we’re losing the guest room, and I’d like to find out which it is so I can start preparing properly, got it?”

Piccolo made a rather consternated noise, even glaring a little bit at her back. Chichi ignored him; she could always tell when he was giving her a dirty look… Slowly, he crawled to his feet, taking it in steps; up to his knees, one foot, two feet… He moved gingerly, still feeling as if he was going to collapse. _How the hell was he supposed to fly like this?_ “Now, Goten’s at school until three-thirty, - and he has swim practice after that until six… He can get himself home, that’s fine… Gohan will be back before then anyway. Oh, I should text him and tell him to plan on coming home here and not going to Videl’s.”

He chose not to interrupt her, letting her prattle on and plan out how she was going to deal with this unexpected bump in the course of her usual day. He knew she liked to have things all planned out far in advance; it eased some of her anxiety. Already, he could see some of the outward symptoms manifesting in the way she wrung her hands and tied and untied and re-tied the knot in her scarf. It was starting to rub off on him. Twitching ears and curling fingers gave it away. Chichi obviously noticed, and she took his hand, kissing his knuckles before patting his palm. “Everything’s going to be alright, Pickaboo,” she murmured.

The namekian flicked his ears and made a face.

“If you say so,” he muttered, shrugging and swallowing a brand new wave of nausea.

“Babe,” he looked down at her as her tiny hands gripped his biceps, her voice serious and stern.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve had two kids, and both of ‘em came out kickin’n’screamin'. Literally nothing could surprise me with babies at this point.”

He grunted, supposing that she was right. In the least, she was the expert in all this. Goten had surely prepped him at least a little… And he wanted a baby, he really, really did...but…

 

Piccolo was not quite sure when it was that they had taken off, when it was that they had landed on the Lookout’s polished marble flooring. But… They were there. And Dende was already gliding over to them. He was still a good bit shorter than Piccolo was, and the older namekian doubted that the God would grow much more. Perhaps an inch or so.

“Hello, Piccolo, Chichi. What a pleasant surprise! How are you both?” Dende stopped a short distance from them, smiling, blue eyes soft. He was just slightly taller than Chichi, who embraced him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Piccolo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. Dende’s face flushed and he tittered with embarrassment at Chichi’s motherly attention.

“Sorry for the short notice,” she crooned, releasing him. Piccolo’s ears flicked, and he shifted his weight to the other foot. He hated when the attention was on him, and he knew it was about to shift and make him the center of it… “Piccolo’s… well, he’s not feeling very well and we... _ah_ …” her dark eyes shifted to him.

Piccolo cleared his throat, fingernails tightening on his biceps.

“As you know, we’ve been… trying for a child.”

Dende’s eyes widened, ears perking and antennae jumping.

“ _AH!_ Of course! Please, follow me inside where things will be more comfortable. This may take a few moments, particularly if it’s early on…” the young Guardian continued talking, and Piccolo and Chichi followed him. Piccolo’s movements were automatic, without thought. His mind was rather blank. Dende was really acting as if it was entirely possible that he was pregnant.

The little God ushered them both into a cozy room with large cushions and a thick, fuzzy throw rug, indicating that they sit. Piccolo gingerly lowered himself onto one of the cushions, sinking into the soft material. He felt like it was swallowing him whole… “Piccolo?”

“Hm?” it was apparent that Dende had been talking to him, and he blinked, having not heard a word.

The God smiled at him, kneeling at his side.

“I’m just going to place my hands on your chest, alright?”

Piccolo nodded mutely, and Dende’s hands, warm and glowing faintly with a pinkish light, touched his chest. Chichi was biting her lower lip, wringing her hands with bright eyes and a trickle of sweat sliding down her heart-shaped face. She looked like she was going to pass out.

“Sit, Chichi,” he murmured. He wasn’t pregnant; he must have eaten something unpleasant.

“Can’t, I’m too nervous.” Hell, she was shaking wasn’t she?

“I’m not -”

“Congratulations, you two!”

Piccolo paled and Chichi squealed. “You’re about two weeks along, so your child’s ki is very, very small. They’re completely masked by your lifeforce.” Dende sighed, placing his hand next on Piccolo’s forehead. “Peace, Piccolo,” he murmured, so soft Piccolo doubted Chichi could hear his words, “I might be younger than you, but I helped deliver plenty of sprouts on my homeworld. I’ll be here to answer any and all of your questions. I’ll be able to offer any sort of help you need.”

The warrior opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  Dende must have sensed something change in his ki, and handed him a newly materialized bucket. Piccolo vomited for the third time that day. “That’s normal, albeit unpleasant.”

Chichi rubbed his back and kissed his temple, murmuring in his ear. He curled over the bucket, still feeling queasy.

“So namekians get morning sickness as well?” Chichi wrapped her shaking arms around his neck, massaging twitching muscles. Piccolo tuned out while she and Dende spoke. Eventually, he relinquished his hold on the bucket, setting it down and slumping into Chichi’s arms. “Oh baby, I know you’re miserable.” She peppered his cheek with kisses, rubbing his ear on the opposite side. “I know all sorts of tricks for that - as long as Dende clears them as being okay!”

“I’m sure they will be…”

He was tuning them out again, receding into his own little world within his mind. This was better. He was able to think now.

His safe place was a bit like his wasteland, only with more flowers. Looking out over it, he saw himself - two of him, actually. One held something in his arms...an egg...spinning around with it and clinging to it, wearing a smile, face opened and relaxed. Piccolo’s ears pinned, watching the Joyful One. He could feel Joy’s euphoria with the news bubbling in his chest, twisting his stomach and filling it with butterflies… And then his landed on the Dark One. This one… This one was unpleasant and scared and full of doubt. All the shakes… That was Dark. The numbness, that was Dark.

Piccolo watch Dark and Joy for a moment longer, contemplating what he was seeing. It was not like it was all the difficult to figure out. Dark was the weaker bits of him. Not even the evil parts of him, which still existed. Just the weakness; doubt and fear and all those other unpleasant sensations… Chichi tried to tell him sometimes that those were normal emotions, but he doubted it. No matter how much she reassured him. After all, she herself did not seem to believe it about herself. At least not always.

He resurfaced in time to hear Chichi asking Dende what could be a danger to him or the baby.

“Well,” the Guardian gave Piccolo a concerned look, reaching out and touching his forehead, sending soothing energy into him, speaking directly to him now, “I _highly_ recommend cutting sparring from your activities until after the egg is laid. Train - stay active, for sure - but limit contact with anything that can hurt you back.” Dende paused, pursing his lips, “like Vegeta.”

Piccolo snorted and Chichi hugged him closer. “Drink lots of water, maybe up your mediation since you’ll be doing less sparring… Let’s see,” Dende touched his chin, thinking. “Are you getting enough sunlight? Make sure you’re getting plenty of that - you need lots of nutrients that, unfortunately, with the Earth’s sunlight schedule, are hard for us to make if we’re not out in it constantly. So,” he started ticking things off on his fingers. “Water, lots of sunlight - meditate outside without a shirt as often as you can - and… I’ll get you some herbs to take that will help you get the right vitamins. Some of them I had Shenlong summon here directly from Namek after I learned that you were trying to conceive…”

Piccolo nodded along, filing away the information but feeling quite overwhelmed, probably missing half of it. He hoped Chichi was listening - knew she was. _Hell, she was probably already formulating a schedule for him to follow_ …

 

Holding a bag of herbs in shaking fingers, Piccolo jumped off of the Lookout, Chichi right behind him.

“How are you feeling, Pickaboo?” she asked, wobbling beside him. She was not very graceful in the air, but she was proficient enough to get from point A to point B, and that was why he had taught her in the first place. Piccolo shrugged, checking to make sure he still had the herbs. They were just fine.

“A little shocked,” he admitted after a moment, “even though… Even though I knew before we arrived. I just…” Piccolo pursed his lips. “I had accepted that I was not with child this time around, and was content to wait another…. one hundred and some odd days before having to think about ...going through this process.”

Chichi swooped closer and hooked her arm around his elbow, making a sympathetic sound.

“It sucks at first - actually it sucks for the most part. I don’t know how much your body is going to change but… Well, you know how _mine_ did!” she laughed and patted his arm, “but at the end…” Chichi let out a wistful sigh, leaning against his bicep, face tilted up just enough to look him in the eye. “Well, at the end you get a baby, and they become the most important person in your life.”

Piccolo offered her a rueful smile, small and short. But he knew she saw it. She always did, “and then you have a second baby and you don’t know how on earth you can love both of them so much at the same time, but you do. You do.”

“Let’s worry about _Junior_ right now, eh?” he suggested.

“ _You’re_ Junior!” Chichi snorted, gently poking his chest, “this one’s the Third if you want to name them ‘Piccolo.’”

Finally, he felt like laughing, shaking his head. Lighter now, he bumped gently into her, nudging her with his hip.

“I have no intention of naming our child after myself,” Piccolo murmured, “two of those in one lifetime is enough.”

“Hmm,” Chichi sighed, closing her eyes. “Can’t say I disagree.” Her arms tightened around his, her excitement filtering through him. “I can hardly believe it! We’re having a baby! You and me!” Her laugh was like the sound of bells rolling over an open meadow, and he smiled.

“It is...hard to comprehend,” Piccolo agreed, falling quiet. He had always considered Gohan, and especially Goten, to be his children. Hell, Goten even called him “papa.”

They were still his, even now with this new little one on the way. "I'll... I'll tell the boys," he managed to say at last. "Although I might need your help with Goten."

Chichi made a soft sound of agreement, patting his arm.

"Gohan is going to be so excited for you, Piccolo." How was it that she always seemed to know his thoughts and fears? He was petrified of telling the kids! Even though the two of them had been talking about a third child for months and months, how would they react now that it was actually happening? “I know Gohan’s already started a list of baby names,” Chichi’s little nudge made him look down at her again.

“He would,” Piccolo was reasonable certain that some of those names were off limits and only for Gohan and Videl’s use. They were practically engaged, and not quite done with high school either. He sighed, shaking his head as they began their descent into the yard.

Gohan and Goten were both at the kitchen table, working on their studies. Goten was interrupting Gohan’s physics to get help on his history homework, but the elder brother did not seem to mind. They both paused as Piccolo and Chichi entered the kitchen.

“Where’ve you two been?” Gohan asked, setting down his pencil and standing to embrace his mother. Piccolo grunted, going straight to the refrigerator and storing the herbs Dende had given him.

“Both of you,” he held up the bag for them to see, “these are not for eating.”

“Why would I ever go for vegetables?” Goten snickered from his seat at the table. “I know how to make _noodles_.” Piccolo rolled his eyes and decided against responding. Goten’s comment drew chuckles from Chichi and Gohan. He stuffed it in the produce drawer and closed the fridge.

"So..." Gohan let the word hang in the air, and Piccolo's ears twitched.

"Are you busy right now?"


	2. A Good Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly lost motivation for this work, so unless something changes I am marking it as complete. I decided to post what I had for chapter 2 and be done with it.

"Um," Gohan glanced at the clock. “I mean, I _can_ take a break. I’m finished with physics anyway and that’s the most complicated thing I have to worry about today.”

Piccolo grunted and jerked his head towards the living room.

“Well, if you’ve got a minute..." He trailed off, pursing his lips. Gohan tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. Piccolo's ears flicked; the boy looked confused, even a little concerned. Great. That was the last thing he needed... The namekian turned and lead Gohan out of the kitchen.

"Piccolo, your ki is blitzing all over the place, what's going on?" The worry was evident, easy to hear. Piccolo wondered, yet again, how the boys would react. Gohan, surely, would be fine... Goten was used to being the baby, even though he was almost six. And yet... Gohan had known how it felt to have his biological parents married and... He swallowed.

There were two ways this could go… Either Gohan would be thrilled, recognizing this child as a culmination of years of love and stability, or… Or some part of him that had perhaps clung to his parents’ relationship would be hurt by the finality. “Piccolo?” Gohan’s voice was hesitant.  
  
The namekian raised a hand to his forehead, kneading the skin above his nose. This was... Harder than he thought it would be... 

"Sit," he muttered, gesturing vaguely to the couch. He heard the cushions creak under Gohan's weight. Piccolo sighed and gingerly lowered himself onto the couch next to Gohan. 

His best friend.

His _son_.

Even if their relationship had begun with a ... _rocky_... start, even though there was only the blood they had spilled together shared between them, even though Gohan had grown up knowing a different father, unlike Goten...

Gohan was his son. Hell, the boy had called him "dad" a few times. He didn't give a damn that they were on accident... It felt more natural when it slipped out from between the teenager's lips.

Piccolo turned to face Gohan, hands fidgeting in his lap. He must have been the picture of anxiety, he thought as Gohan's arms wrapped around him in an awkward hug.

"Piccolo," Gohan withdrew, face scrunched with brow drawn concern, "are things alright? With you and Mom? I mean, she seems fine, and if things weren't fine she'd..." He trailed off, and Piccolo nudged the boy's knee with his own.

"Things are fine, Kid. Just..." the namekian paused, unsure if he should just drop the bomb or ease into it. "But things around here - the house, life in general - are..." Another break, "things are going to change. Soon." Gohan looked alarmed, and Piccolo kicked himself for not practicing the art of communication more frequently. "For the better, I hope."

Silence hung between them for a moment; Piccolo could almost see Gohan's amazing brain jumping to thousands of different thoughts. Gohan's eyes then widened, and he brought a hand to his mouth.

"D-do you mean?" The teen's voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

"I'm... I'm pregnant. Yeah."

"O-oh my gosh, Piccolo!" Gohan choked, arms shooting out to embrace him, only to jerk back before reaching him. "I'm afraid I'll crush you in excitement, gimme a minute," he laughed, flapping his hands around his head and standing up. Piccolo felt relief seep over him like the warmth from a hot bath as he watched Gohan dance across the floor for a solid three minutes before being composed enough to give a non-lethal hug. "A baby! A real baby! I'm gonna be a brother! Again!"

Lips twitching into a smile, caught up in Gohan’s infectious excitement, Piccolo relaxed. “Did you just find out today?” Gohan asked, giving him one more gentle squeeze. The namekian inclined his head as he straightened. “Wow,” the teenager shook his head, “oh gosh, Piccolo, you must be so excited!” The namekian closed his eyes, nodding slowly.

“Nervous, but… yes, I am excited.”

He felt Gohan’s hands on his shoulders, and he opened his eyes, meeting the sparkling gaze of his dearest friend.

“You’re gonna be a great dad, Piccolo.” Gohan’s eyes softened, “you already are.”

 

***

 

“So,” Goten cocked his head to the side, dark hair flopping over with the movement. He needed a haircut, Piccolo thought, even if the longer locks accentuated the side of him that was so reminiscent of Chichi. “I’m gonna be a big brother now? Like Gohan?”

Piccolo, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the boy in his lap, nodded.

“Just like Gohan,” he confirmed, smiling softly. Goten chewed his lip for a moment before looking quizzically at his mother, who leaned gently on Piccolo’s shoulder.

“But Mommy’s not the one who’s gonna have the baby?”

Chichi shook her head, her hair making a soft sound as it slipped around her shoulders.

“Nope, Papa’s having the baby.”

Goten looked contemplative for a moment, little lips pursed so thin they were almost invisible. Just like his mother.

“I think I’m the only kid in school whose Papa’s having a baby. I’m pretty sure.”

Piccolo snorted, and Chichi reached out a hand to smooth Goten’s bangs out of his eyes.

“Probably, Little One. Although you never know,” she murmured with a smile audible in her voice. “How do you feel about being a big brother?” 

Goten beamed up at them before scrambling forward and doing his best to embrace Piccolo, little arms only getting to the edges of the namekian’s broad chest. Piccolo smiled and scooped him up closer to his face. Goten planted a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s gonna be awesome!” he giggled, hugging Piccolo’s neck. “And it means I’m not the baby anymore!”

“For another four months you are!” Chichi chided, and Piccolo shook his head and set Goten back down. The five year old scrunched his face.

“No, the _baby_ is the baby now!”

 

***

 

Chichi was still in the bathroom when he crawled into their bed, utterly exhausted. At least being pregnant explained his increased fatigue. He had been attributing it how damn cold it had been.

The timeline of a namekian pregnancy, according to Dende, lasted about four months. That meant his baby would come in late March. Tentatively, he touched his chest, right over where he knew his womb was located. It was...unnerving...to not have any idea how his child felt...where was their lifeforce? Their ki? Piccolo lay on his side, back to the bathroom, facing the window, hand on his chest. 

When would be able to feel it? His baby’s ki? The namekian closed his eyes, rolling onto his back and inhaling deeply through his nose. He focused on breathing, feeling his belly rise until his lungs were full, the hand on his chest relatively still. Exhale through his mouth, body deflating. Repeat.

“You okay, Piccolo?”

The mattress creaked and sank as Chichi joined him. She had the good sense to climb under the covers, he could tell from the tug of the sheets under him.

“Just thinking.”

“You and your meditation,” his wife murmured, flicking off the lamp on the bedside table. Piccolo grunted, but she only laughed and wrapped her arms around his elbow, resting her cheek on his bicep. “Are you gonna look at me or are you off in La La Land?”  
  
“It’s not ‘La La Land, Chich,” he replied in retort, cracking open an eye and smirking down at her. “It’s my inner peaceful zone.”

“That’s _Picklish_ for ‘La La Land,’ and you know it.” Piccolo snorted but did not deny it. Rather, he freed his arm from her grasp and pulled her close to his chest as he shifted to face her. “Pic - God, I was almost comfortable.”

“This is better.”

“Is it?” But she was smiling, hair pulled back in a loose braid, and looking up at him. She was so small, especially compared to him.

Would the baby be small like her? He hoped that the baby would have her eyes. He hoped that their baby would be more like her than like him. She was sweet where he was bitter, tried to believe that emotions were not a sign of weakness, and so full of love it spilled over in a warm, deep burgundy wave. 

Piccolo sighed into her hair, closing his eyes…

 

***

 

The following morning was hell.

Chichi was crouched behind him, rubbing his back and murmuring encouragement as he yet again turned his stomach inside out. How long was this going to last? Surely not the whole four months? Vaguely, he recalled Chichi’s pregnancy with Goten as he gagged over the toilet bowl. She had been sick nearly the whole damn time! And he had attributed it to the stress of losing her husband. Honestly, it was no wonder Goten had decided that thirty-three weeks was was enough time to hang out in her womb before clawing his way out…

“Sucks, don’t it?” Chichi’s fingers rubbed at knots in his trapezius. “At least you only ate a little oatmeal.”

“And I’ll never eat it again,” Piccolo replied, wiping his mouth with toilet paper and spitting several times. He flushed the unfortunate remains of his would-be breakfast down the drain and leaned back against her. “I’ll stick to those herbs and mint tea and water for the remainder of this _ordeal_.”

“That’s a strong word,” his wife mused, continuing to massage the musculature of his neck and upper back. “I know it’s awful, but this is - supposedly - a good sign of hormone balances.” Piccolo grunted, and Chichi continued. “But it’s...well, you get a baby at the end of it.”

“You mean we, right?” he smirked, looking up at her with slightly bloodshot, tired eyes. She smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Brush your teeth and get dressed, we’re going into town to buy baby things.”

He made a noise of protest, but knew it was fruitless.

“Fine,” the namekian muttered. “But I’m not cleaning up if I get sick while we’re out.”

“Lucky for you I ain’t afraid of a bit of a mess.” His wife helped pull him to his feet, inspecting his shirt. “Toss that in the hamper, will ya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin


End file.
